The chaos caused by the ogres had thrown the orc forces into disarray, preventing them from mounting a full-scale assault on the Alliance's defenses.
For a time, the pressure on the Alliance front lines was greatly relieved.
Lothar seized the opportunity. Without hesitation, he began regrouping his cavalry, preparing to launch a full-scale counteroffensive against the enemy.
Although Lady Liadrin, Uther, and the paladins under their command were still holding back the death knights and hadn't returned, the Alliance could no longer afford to wait for them.
If they wanted to decisively win this battle, the Alliance had to strike before the orcs could regroup.
"Ready the cavalry!" Lothar bellowed. "Sound the charge!"
His adjutant, Turalyon, signaled to the herald, who blew a resounding blast on the warhorn.
The cavalry lined up in formation. Lothar, mounted, stood at the front, with Turalyon and the other officers forming up behind him.
This time, Alaric did not ride out with them.
First, in the earlier defense, the Alliance had already inflicted heavy losses on the Horde. Once Lothar gave the order for a full assault, victory was within reach even without Alaric's direct intervention.
Second, at this final stage of the war, cavalry alone couldn't carry the battle.
With Lothar leading the charge, Alaric needed to remain behind to command the rest of the army and coordinate with the cavalry to finish the enemy off.
The shield wall parted to create a path, and the cavalry thundered downhill across the ridges. The slope gave them tremendous initial speed.
They lowered their lances and formed a wedge formation as they charged toward the orcs.
Against the chaotic orc ranks, the Alliance's iron cavalry cut through like a hot knife through butter, carving a bloody swath through the enemy lines.
They quickly tore open the Horde's formation and pierced deep into the rear. Lothar made a hand signal, and the entire unit pulled their reins and wheeled around.
Back at the Alliance command center, Alaric observed the fruits of their charge. He immediately issued an order to the two high elf commanders.
"The commander has broken through the enemy lines. High elf rangers, target all orcs directly ahead. Unleash your full firepower to cover the cavalry's return!"
Though close to Alaric, Alleria and Sylvanas never overstepped boundaries on the battlefield. Alleria gave a solemn nod in acknowledgment, while Sylvanas flashed him a quick flirtatious wink before issuing her command.
What followed stunned the human soldiers—the elite archery of the high elf rangers.
Though there were only about a thousand of them, their barrage was easily equivalent to four or five times that number of human archers.
Their accuracy far surpassed human standards. A storm of arrows rained down like locusts, felling orcs in waves.
As Lothar's cavalry turned and began another charge, Alaric raised his hand, signaling the rangers to cease fire. They rested in place briefly while messengers rushed in with fresh arrow supplies to replenish their spent quivers.
At last, Lothar's blood-soaked cavalry returned to the Alliance lines, trampling over the orcs' corpses.
After multiple charges, the knights were drenched in gore, their mounts panting heavily, white steam snorting from their nostrils.
Compared to the beginning, a quarter of their numbers had been lost—most in the latest charge.
But their sacrifice was not in vain; the orc army was in complete disarray. Even the loudest shouts of their warlords couldn't reestablish order in time.
Lothar locked eyes with Alaric.
"It's time for the final assault," the warrior growled.
The mage nodded in agreement.
The third charge began swiftly.
Again, Lothar led the cavalry into the fray. But this time, as they shattered the orc formation, the Alliance's infantry surged forward to press the advantage.
The rangers blended with the foot soldiers, picking off any enemy that came near with their bows.
If enemies got too close, they drew their twin blades or longswords, unleashing elegant elven swordplay that showed the orcs what refined combat truly looked like.
Compared to the scattered orc formations, the humans and elves maintained close ranks even during a full advance.
They focused on tight coordination, using superior numbers and teamwork to gain the upper hand in local skirmishes.
The battered orcs, dazed and weary, suffered heavy losses under the unrelenting pressure from the Alliance and began to fall back.
Then, amidst the chaos, the deep thrum of war drums echoed from somewhere within the Horde's ranks.
It was the signal to retreat.
While some battle-crazed orcs continued to fight to the death, most turned and fled like a receding tide.
The Alliance launched its final pursuit.
The battlefield descended into utter chaos. Even the Alliance couldn't maintain formation. Soldiers scattered in every direction, each hunting down fleeing orcs.
Amid the disorder, Alaric traveled with only his three personal attendants. Soon, he spotted Lothar's gleaming armor—a beacon that made the Alliance's supreme commander stand out on the battlefield.
As Alaric approached, he heard Turalyon's triumphant shout.
"We did it!" the young paladin cried. "We've beaten them!"
Lothar gave Alaric a nod as he arrived. Unlike the others who continued the pursuit, the two commanders stood still, watching the orc army's retreat.
"They're heading back to their main camp outside Stromgarde," Lothar said quietly. "We should sound the gong and call back our troops."
He had chosen not to chase them.
"Shouldn't we follow?" Turalyon asked, his blood still boiling from the earlier charges. "If we run after them now, we might be able to free Stromgarde in one stroke!"
Alaric shook his head.
"No," he corrected. "We've only defeated them temporarily. They're not running from us—they're returning to their stronghold to regroup and strike again."
"But shouldn't we follow them and deal more damage while we can?" Turalyon argued anxiously. "Isn't that the right call?"
Alaric noticed a strange tone in the young paladin's voice—tinged with challenge and hostility.
For someone of the paladin order, such emotion was unusual.
Was he jealous because of the Windrunner sisters?
Before Alaric could respond, Lothar stepped in and answered for him.
"We could do that," Lothar sighed. "But look behind you."
Turalyon turned—and instantly understood.
The soldiers, drained by the prolonged fighting, were visibly exhausted.
Though some were still in high spirits, chasing orcs for glory and revenge, many others slumped where they stood, dozing off or nursing new wounds, or simply too fatigued to move.
The battle had raged for most of the day. Though it hadn't seemed long during the fight, the setting sun now revealed how much time had passed.
Their weapons were badly depleted. Thousands of lances had been lost in the charges. Most of their bows and crossbows were spent.
Many other pieces of equipment were similarly exhausted.